An Attempted Story Part I

She awoke in a splendid dreary haze her mind fading from an erratic dreamy sleep. She kept convincing herself that the day before was good and this day would be better. She was an expert at convincing herself of false pretenses. As she trudged her way through the cold and dark house from her cozy bed, with each step she reminded herself of something she was grateful for. Step one, I'm grateful for my breath, Step two, my sight, Step three, my taste. She paused and thought, actually I probably would have been better off without that monstrous slice of pecan pie before bed, damn taste buds. She shook her head and erased the thought as quickly as it had entered her mind. Step, whatever step I'm on, I'm grateful for...do I really have to list all of my senses, she thought. Well, I'm just grateful for them all, yea, there. She was freezing, in her prided goodwill night gown. Her roommate, Jack, was such a cheap bastard when it came to the heat in the winter, but observing him on a shopping spree you would have thought he was a thousandaire. Actually she didn't really mind the chilly bite. Though she never liked to admit it, she was a fan of the cold. So she wrapped herself in a blanket, as she put on a pot of coffee, smirked, and quietly whispered how grateful she was for Jack. She tried every morning to "say her grateful's" as she liked to call them. Usually her mind would wander and forget by this time, but this day was different. She didn't have school to attend, nor work to drag herself to, only freedom. Today, unlike every other day, was about truth, truth to herself and freedom by way of this. Normally, at this time in the morning, she would be debating what to wear, or how to finish homework she had dreaded doing. Instead, she felt enlightened. She felt that there was something she had to do, for herself and nobody else. And for today, she was okay with being selfish.

She slowly sipped her searing coffee as she sat to think. Smoking hookah was one of her favorite things to do since her extensive bout working for a hookah bar. Hookah was her most prized act in settings of the social sort but mostly in solitude. Especially while she thought. She sat in silence. The only sounds were the humming of the electronics in the kitchen, the sporadic bubbling of the hookah, the damn big foot that lived in the apartment above, and her mind. Her mind was always loud. As she drew the hose to her mouth, she inhaled deeply. She could feel her mouth and lungs filling with smoke and she could hear the bubbles as if there were a tiny boiling swamp on her coffee table. She delicately eased the hose to her prickly legs and began to exhale. She sat in amazement at the vast amount of smoke rolling from her mouth as she slowly exhaled. She had always enjoyed smoke, of any kind really. It was thick as it first eased from her lips, it seemed to have a mind of its own the way it moved. Swirling in all directions and slowly dissipating into the thin cold air of her apartment. She continued the pattern as her thoughts wandered about life, love, people she knew and people she didn't, the ones close to her and the ones she barely knew. Everyone and everything was on her mind. Then he came back like a sudden storm, the man of her dreams. Usually she made a conscious effort to keep this man far from her daily thoughts, he was a distraction. But, today was different and no matter how hard she tried, he knew how to sneak in, stick, and consume all other thoughts. How could I spend so much time thinking of a man I don't even know, she thought to herself. Or maybe I do know him, her thoughts attacked back. The one thing she knew for certain was that he was her soulmate. And the paradoxical thoughts that encompassed her mind about whether she was ready to find him or not kept her from doing just that. "I'm ready", she silently said to herself as she was surrounded by a fading cloud of smoke. She had said this before but never with as much confidence and peace. That's why that day was different, now she knew.

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